


"It Seems All of our Stories Start This Way."

by The_Newbie



Series: Departed!Cole!AU [1]
Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Departed!Cole!AU, Emotional Hurt, Kirby Morrow - Freeform, Major character death - Freeform, emotional angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Newbie/pseuds/The_Newbie
Summary: “You see, the hero we gather to commemorate and memorialize today came long after time was given its name."A prequel to Season 16: Succession
Series: Departed!Cole!AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: The_Newbie's Ninjago Fanfic Collection





	"It Seems All of our Stories Start This Way."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kirby Morrow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kirby+Morrow).



There is a place in the center of Ninjago City, and there, a statue stands. It is tall, very much so, and although it is relatively new mother nature has already begun to wage her war against this grand icon. Her airborne avian litter its head with their excrement. Mother nature herself has set her elements of wind and water against the towering edifice. The surface, once glistening and new has gathered rust in its many crevices as well as in the places that its shadow falls.

The monument was placed there in gratitude for the great sacrifice of the White one. And although the anniversary of that one perilous and chaotic day is within reach, the crowd gathered opposite of this statue has convened to memorialize another great travesty.

Clouds overhead dull the sky and seem to mute all color that breaks the scene. Of course, in these days of mourning there is little color among the mourner’s attire; save those who wear them as a symbol of respect to the fallen hero that here unto this day is to be memorialized. Behind the previously mentioned statue stands another, covered by a large gray sheet that cascades down the edifice. It hangs loosely around the colossus so that one can make out only the ankles - where the cover cannot reach - and the very minutest of details on the forehead - where hair may hang.

Among the crowd of mourners are friends and family of the fallen hero, the few he had in life. Acquaintances mull around while some whom he had personally rescued hover near the front, speaking in hushed voices and scurrying to seats. Even old enemies turned loyal allies appear from the farthest reaches of the great land the man they have gathered to commemorate had protected, as he had sworn to do so long ago.

Yet for those few men and women who knew him best, that felt like a lifetime ago. Many a night had been spent blurry eyed and numb, in a constant state of shock. Even now, weeks after the tragic fate that stole away with their brother in arms much like a thief in the night, it is too much. The emotional toll is nothing new, it is an experience these brave men and women know of intimately. They had time and time again faced herculean threats, such that swore to rip their very land up from its roots and shake it into oblivion like some great weed. They had many a time lost a friend or family member in such struggles. It is almost a shame their brother in arms perished so quietly.

Of course, every time previous the deceased had returned in one form or another. The Lord, thought dead, returned purified. The White one, not of human flesh, quite literally rebuilt himself. The Green one, feared both a failure and dead, returned not only with destiny’s sword but also the robes of his father. The girl wished back by her truest love, though none but they knew of that private tragedy. The Ghost, thought cursed, returned empowered and human once more. The Samurai, though inheriting the mantle from the Water one’s earliest days, revealed herself to be the White one’s lost love. The Lord resurrected by those who dare claim his heirship. The Black one, thought long gone from his greatest fall, returned in their hour of greatest need. And the Green one, returning though not by his own will, at the cusp of their triumph.

This time however, there was proof. Their brother in arms ashes lay in the foundation stone of the monument, built to him. To honor him, so that some aspect of him however minute, insignificant and unknown it may become, would live on.

His brothers and sister in arms had all agreed the base of this monument would be an honorable burial place for the first of Ninjago’s heroes who truly fell. There, in what was essentially the corner stone of the great mural, their brother could still support something much bigger than himself, as he had done supporting them. Here, he could help ground something again, much as he had done while still alive. He was one of, if not the strongest of the members physically; and a rock solid one as well. He had always been the most down to earth of the body, and after the death of the White one, though he had left, he had gone to ground himself, not to chase fame or glory in an arena. His was a presence sorely missed.

There is a loud shriek that startles both bird and man, and while the former take to the skies in flight, the latter moves to take up seats. Before the statue stands a short wooden podium on which is mounted a microphone, behind which is one Cyrus Borg, who had officiated the last dedication of such monuments.

Borg himself is paralyzed, unable to make use of his legs. As such he sits in the simplest of wheelchairs, with a black blanket draped over the utterly useless appendages. Over his torso he wears a black sweater around which he has donned a coat, grayer than the cold dreary noon time. Before him in the front row sit four men and one woman clothed in ceremonial gis of five colors. Beside them sit his creation – the Samurai – a sensei, the Green one’s mother, and one man Borg does not recognize, who must be the relative of the fallen warrior they have gathered to commemorate.

“Long before time had its name,” Borg begins. “It seems all our stories begin as such. The stories of the Golden weapons, those of the First Spinjitsu Master, and many legends and villains that have ever scourged our beloved country.”

Borg hesitates, his voice decrescendos into one just barely louder than a whisper. “You see, the hero we gather to commemorate and memorialize today came long after time was given its name. He, like all of us I’m sure, heard the stories of the first Spinjitsu Master. The legends of the Serpentine war, and perhaps even of Lord Garmadon. And, I am assured, by those who knew him best, never could have believed that one day, those stories might be about him. That one day, the tales of his face offs against snake, and ghost, and sons alike would be told in the same ever reverent breath as the one from whom his powers were inherited. And that one day, “ Borg quiets here again. “He would have another monument, carved into the hallowed walls of the Corridor of Elders, where a sensei of his is also immortalized and kept so that history may not forget. That those stories might be written upon the same pages and bound in the same book as the exploits of his former masters in the Great Serpentine War.

We gather here today to immortalize a man, a brother, and a true friend. He fought in many a battle, and yes, his last has come to pass; but in these stories, in the tales and photographs he will still live. There, he can be kept, and there he will be held high: revered, and immortalized! There he can never die, if we only uphold him such as he has upheld us.

And so,” Borg says. “It is with the heaviest of hearts that I unveil today, this simple monument to a man who towered much taller than some mere statue. And without further ado, I give to you…”

The ninja hold their collective breath. The Master of Fire, who resides at the farthest edge, and next to him his sister, the Master of Water. Then her Ying, the Master of Lightning. And next to him, the nindroid Master of Ice. And still next to him, the last member, the Master of Energy.

“The Master of Earth!”

A thundering, successive cascade of cloth pulls away and falls from the monument at Borgs hand. The monument, an impending, towering figure carved into the blackest of stone, looks out over those below him in omnipotence. His arms are crossed before him in both a stern and laid back manner while his face - devoid of all features save one - looks ahead into the great middle distance. The only feature on his face is that jagged scar, lit up within the stone a warm orange tone, which also runs through the veins upon his crossed arms.

Borg looks upon the ninja, the sad serious state they are in. Kai, in his red and Nya in her cerulean. Jay in his blue, the Ying and the Yang, and both hold each other close. Zane, in his white, looks at Borg himself, to make eye contact with the man for the brevity of a moment. Lloyd, in his green, does not notice Borgs gentle pondering stare, for he looks up upon the monument before him that stands tall and towers over them the way his brother in arms had done in life.

And Cole, in his black, looks ever forward. His immortal, ever seeing gaze upon the city he had come to call his home. Standing back to back with his comrade, though in death, to watch his beloved country until time too, passed away.

* * *

Dedicated in loving memory of Kirby Morrow.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the idea "What will they do now?" I'll admit, I didn't think about what the Ninjago creative team would do with the suddenness of Kirby Morrow's death. Sadly, I believe the overlords at Lego will force them to recast and Cole will continue to live as a character, which I have nothing against, but I feel as if it's almost disrespecting Kirby Morrow's legacy. No one else can ever be Cole for me. In a way I feel this would be the best way to honor Kirby, give his character a quiet, off screen death, and then continue with the story from another angle.  
> This story will kickstart what I am calling the Departed!Cole!AU. This story is tagged as such. This AU will follow the ninja after Cole has died. The next story in this series is Ninjago Season 16: Succession. It is formatted as a screenplay. I don't know how many episodes there will be, or how long, or when I can update, this isn't my forefront project. But please, if you'd like, go check out the new story. The first episode is up now.  
> I appreciate any criticism and comments you leave, so please, if you feel moved to do so, comment. Trust me, it is the best motivator out there.


End file.
